The Dog and the Wolf
by Weaver of worlds
Summary: In the anime, Nakajima Hideaki and Shichijo Omi had a very interesting cat-and-mouse relationship. Why? Rating T for Nakajima's mouth and Omi's typing to be safe .


In the anime, Nakajima Hideaki and Shichijo Omi had a very interesting cat-and-mouse relationship. Why? I know this isn't a common pairing, but I thought it might be fun to try. What say you?

* * *

"Hide, take this to the treasury department."

Hideaki glanced up from his computer and raised an eyebrow as he glared at Tetsuya. He turned back to the computer and swallowed a growling sigh.

"I'm sure I didn't hear you properly," he started. "Say that one more time."

Tetsuya smirked and waggled the paper through the air. "As many times as you need, Hide. Take. This. To. The. Treasury. Department."

Hideaki reached up to adjust his glasses and stood. He approached the large desk and glared down at Tetsuya. "You dance a thin line with death, Tetsu."

"That's 'Mr. President' or 'King' to you. Don't dawdle too much, Hide-_kun_."

He snatched up the paper from the student council president's hand and turned on his heels. "You'll pay for this later," he promised already considering the mountains of paperwork he could dig up for Tetsuya to do—all of which would absolutely _have_ to be completed before Monday.

"I'm sure I will," Tetsuya laughed as if he didn't believe that Hideaki could follow through.

Hideaki glanced back as his hand fell upon the cool metal of the door. Had Tetsuya really forgotten the times that Hideaki had done just that? Tetsuya leaned against the heel of his hand and made a brushing-away motion to hurry his vice president away. The slender youth narrowed his eyes and pulled his mouth into a thin line as he obeyed.

Hideaki just barely kept from crushing the paper in his hand as he moved down the hallway. Of course, Hideaki kept his gait placid and unconcerned as always despite the storm of irritation raging in his chest. First thing of the new school year and Tetsuya was already pushing his buttons. To help keep his composure, the tall youth locked his focus on the crisp clacking of his fine leather shoes against the shining tiles of the clean hallways.

The vice-president didn't bother to pause when he reached the treasury office. Instead he gripped the handle and shoved it open without breaking stride. He stopped, glancing around to take stock of his surroundings and where his enemies may be waiting. To his surprise, the room was empty of its normal inhabitants: the head of the treasury, Saionji Kaoru, and his dog, Shichijo Omi.

Everything was neat as usual, with Kaoru's newest tea set laid out on the small table in front of the plush couch. It looked like it was half-unpacked, but by the arrangement, Hideaki saw that it had been carefully set up to display the set while still protecting the most important pieces. _That moron_, Hideaki scorned to himself. What sort of idiot displayed things like _that_? It looked ridiculous and undignified.

Hideaki scowled and approached the desk where Kaoru usually sat and dropped the letter atop a small, neat stack of files. As he turned to leave, the computer that the dog always sat at caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes as the screen saver flashed through various images of the school and student body. It crossed his mind to sit down and attempt to steal through the encryptions and protective systems at ground zero, but decided against it. The risks of being caught far outweighed the potential benefits.

"Idiot," he commented as he started to turn away and return to his own domain—where he was comfortable. However, as a change in the picture caught his attention and froze him where he stood. It was a picture of _him_. What was worse, it was a picture of him in the cafeteria eating with Tetsuya!

"The hell?" he growled. "Where did that dog get this kind of picture?"

"From a camera of course."

Hideaki spun to look over his shoulder at the sudden intrusion. He scowled at Omi while the silver-haired individual leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed, and his typical placid expression just barely giving way to irritation that always colored his voice when they interacted.

Omi raised an eyebrow and pressed his lips together before speaking again. "So you progressed from breaking and entering in the virtual world to the physical now? Trust me, there's nothing in this office you can get your hands on any better than you can remotely, and we both know how unsuccessful you are at that."

"Don't be stupid," Hideaki growled as he released the back of the chair he just realized he'd been gripping. He turned towards Omi and inserted both his hands in his pockets as he smirked. "I wouldn't stoop to such levels. I had something to deliver."

"So Niwa-san demoted you to a delivery boy, eh?" Omi prodded. "Perhaps Taki-kun would lend you his cycle to make things easier."

Hideaki locked his jaw and clenched his fists in his pockets, fighting to keep his face a mask of indifferent calm in the face of the dog's words. "More importantly, where do you get off taking a picture like that?"

"I don't have to answer the questions of someone who's trespassing. Leave or I _will_ put you on report with school board and with the chairman."

Hideaki forced a smile to his face and walked towards Omi. "Relax; I was just leaving, treasury dog," he smirked as he waved one hand in dismissal. He dropped the hand to rest against Omi's shoulder as he passed by and leaned in towards the slightly taller young man's ear. "Don't think that I would step foot in your den without good reason. I don't want to get _fleas_."

"Best run along to tag along at Niwa-san's coat tails then," he answered back, his serene smile filling his face and pinching his half-lidded eyes. "Never know when the king will need his next delivery."

Hideaki smirked and released his grip on Omi as he moved to walk away. He wasn't fool enough to think that he could win this argument. It wasn't his space, and though he knew that his words _did_ affect Omi, he also knew that he was unsettled and off his game in the treasury office. For now, he would retreat. Omi could have this one, but next time… Next time.

Even as he walked back to the student council office he asked himself for the hundredth time why he bothered with Omi. Granted, they'd met and immediately they'd clashed like tigers and dragons, but that happened often for Hideaki. Why did _Omi_ get under his skin like he did? Why couldn't he ignore him? Why did he want to see _him_ squirm when there were so many others he deigned it satisfactory to simply ignore?

* * *

Hideaki narrowed his eyes as he assessed the screen that popped up to interrupt his hacking. His frown intensified and he grit his teeth as the screen progressed from a simple security denial to the laughing face of some kind of mutt-like-creature that announced he had four minutes to catch and kill the downloading virus before it wiped his hard-drive.

A smirk spread over his face and he raised an eyebrow as the challenge sank in. _That dog will regret this_, he promised himself as he skated away from the warning screen and flew through the computer and his own protection programs in search of the virus. Of course, he had no doubt he could find and disable it. This was Omi he was considering, and while he was ace with protection, encryption, and hacking, his viruses always left a little to be desired. Granted, if they were ever loosed on the unsuspecting public at 7:45 one morning, they very well could take out entire grids before anyone could finish their eight-o'clock coffee. However, Hideaki was neither unsuspecting nor the public. He knew Omi's games and would have been lying to himself if he tried to say some part of him didn't enjoy rising to meet them.

The vice-president grinned as he flew through the source coding and the layers of information that comprised the virtual world that was his computer.

_There_.

Of course, finding the little bastard was only a third of the battle. Dismantling and keeping it dismantled comprised the other two thirds as Omi's viruses were notorious for resurrecting themselves with particular tenacity.

Hideaki almost started to get nervous as that mocking little timer ticked down the seconds before the virus really took hold. However, he kept his cool and with a final smirk of triumph wiped the little brute away into a locked-down encryption file that it wouldn't be able to get out of even if it did somehow resurrect itself after that shredding he gave it.

The tall youth leaned back a little, feeling quite pleased. The feeling only grew as he mulled over the entrance pathway of that virus. He reached up and adjusted his glasses, a new determination burning in his oceanic eyes. Today he was going to get through that dog's impenetrable wall of security, and that virus was going to show him the way in.

After nearly four hours of backdoor searching under the cover of an 'exiting virus', Hideaki finally broke through. Of course, he could see that his access was still limited to the third tier security level, but this was further than he'd gotten before. A little more patience and some clever angling on his part would surely allow him further.

Hideaki couldn't help but raise his eyebrows as he encountered the wall to the second tier. His lips parted every so slightly half in surprise and half in awe at the sheer genius required to construct such a formidable wall. Omi really made that? It was more complex, even at first glance, than most of the high-level military security systems—not that Hideaki knew anything about successfully hacking those in grade seven just to prove he could. Of course, he had no idea that such a feat would require at least four days of dedicated work and painstaking care to cover his tracks.

Still, those systems were nothing compared to the goliath here.

_Heh_, he laughed to himself with a slight nod of acknowledgement for Omi's prowess. The dog was impressive; even he had to admit that. Since he didn't have the time to tackle that wall, and he was already in the third tier, no sense wasting that opportunity to snoop around.

Every moment he spent was like Christmas and even more satisfying. He, Nakajima Hideaki, was cruising through Shichijio Omi's third tier security system without barrier. Even before the elation wore off, something even better caught his eye. Was that really…?

Hideaki grinned in utter triumph as he stumbled upon a direct connection between the treasury computer and Omi's private laptop. This was almost too good to be true. With only a momentary thought of hesitation, Hideaki plunged forward, determined to find as much as he could before Omi caught on to what was happening. If he was lucky, Omi was at dinner at this very moment and would, therefore, be ignorant of any of the happenings for at least another hour.

It reminded him of all the holidays rolled up into one—the excitement, the thrill, the wonder, and the pleasure. All he needed where the fireworks.

However, the feeling didn't last long. His mad dash through Omi's private virtual comings and going came to a crashing halt when he stumbled on a simple file marked 'NH' that organized some of the grey-haired youth's photographs. Hideaki's jaw actually dropped, and his eyes flew wide in shock as he scrolled through picture after picture.

Hundreds of them.

Hundreds of _him_. In class. At work. The cafeteria. The hallways. With Tetsu. Alone. By the ocean with his books. Watching the Sakura blooms with everyone else. Looking sour. Looking pleased. Looking tired. Looking cross. Smirking. Glaring. Walking. Asleep. On the phone. Lecturing a freshman.

A chill ran down his spine. Where had all these come from? Who took them? _Why_ did Omi have them? Some of them were dated from freshmen year. How many were there? For the first time in his life, Hideaki could only stare—dumbfounded and confused. He had no answers; he had no plan.

All he held were questions he had no idea how to answer.

He jumped when his screen shifted views, crashing to black, and a message box popped up. It was obviously a message from Omi.

**You **_**bastard**_**!**

Hideaki could only stare in surprise at the simple, scathing message. There was no challenge, no reserved baiting. There was no question and no obvious or instant retribution.

But the simple, angry box told Hideaki one thing: he crossed the line. This went from simple student council-treasury rivalry into the personal. Omi's attack was not from the standpoint of the assistant head of the treasury defending his pride and his honor—it was from the heart, pride, and soul of Shichijo Omi.

Almost as quickly as Hideaki's guilt rose to the surface, he squashed it down with the indignation of all of those photos.

"What the hell?" he growled aloud. Who did that dog think he was? Those were pictures of _him_. Granted they were on Omi's private computer, but who gave him permission to have them in the first place? Wasn't he in the wrong first? Of course he was!

Hideaki would make him pay… He would make him… Why did he have all those photos?

* * *

"Hideaki-san, is something the matter?"

"Hn?" he asked, glancing up from his typing for only a moment before turning his eyes away from the quiet sophomore who had yet to grow a significant backbone—even if he was the luckiest brat in the world.

"Is everything alright?" Keita asked as he set the files down beside Hideaki. "You look upset."

"This is how I always look," Hideaki brushed off his concern.

"He's right, Hide," Tetsuya joined from the couch as he flipped the page of his magazine and turned the whole thing sideways. "You looked about as happy as a drowning rat."

"Thank you for that observation, Tetsu," he growled. "Stick to your magazine, because we both know there is _nothing_ you need to do right now for the student council."

"Fine, fine," Tetsuya sighed as he tossed aside the glossy pages and stood. "I get it. Don't get to crying while I'm gone, Hide," he laughed as he left—hopefully to actually get the information he needed to pick up personally from the chairman's office.

"Idiot," Hideaki growled to himself.

"Really, Hideaki-san," Keita started, his tone low and quiet as if he feared a harsh rebuff. It had been a long time since Hideaki heard such an unsure tone from Keita—not since they'd gone to the jazz bar when the former-vice-chairman was trying to force Keita out of Bell Liberty.

The vice-president stopped typing and turned to lean one arm over the back of his chair as he looked up at the blue-eyed waif. Hideaki narrowed his eyes and frowned. Maybe Keita could help him sort some things out. After the circulating letter, at least he knew he could trust the simple youth.

"You repeat anything I'm about to tell you to anyone, and I don't care what Endo tries to do to stop it, I will personally make sure that you are forced to conclude every business transactions of your future career with 'do you want fries with that?' Do you understand me, Ito?"

Keita drew back a little and furrowed his brow. Still the look of gentle concern did not leave his shining eyes. "Of course, Nakajima-san," he murmured. "But you only had to _ask_."

Hideaki smirked a little—the closest he could offer to a smile. "I suppose," he answered, turning back to his computer. He may be about to lay his conundrum out on the line for little Ito Keita to help him analyze, but he'd be damned if he was going to sit there and look at him like a simpering little girl searching for emotional comfort. This was a problem to solve, and if Keita could help him, great. If not, life would go on.

Silence filled the room as Hideaki finished up relating his issue, the questions, and the uncertainties—leaving out most of the emotion that gave each such power in his life. Keita didn't need the emotion anyway. If Hideaki knew the sophomore at all, the auburn-haired youth was adding in plenty all by himself. Still, the quiet made him a little nervous. Not that he would admit that in a million years.

"Do you hate that he has pictures of you?" Keita finally asked.

Hideaki's eyebrows knitted together with the question. _Did_ he hate that Omi had the pictures, or was he just surprised? "I don't think so," he answered after a moment of reflection. "After all, I didn't go in and destroy the whole laptop. I imagine I would have if I did."

"He must like you."

"Eh?" Hideaki actually spun to look at the youth who would dare to voice such a ridiculous statement. All the bickering, the baiting, the cutting words, challenging stares and glares…

Keita drew back a little and shrugged. "Why else would someone have so many pictures of one person? I don't think that Omi is the type to just pick someone and stalk them, so the only other thing I can think of is that he likes you. I know you guys fight, but maybe it just like grade-school. I remember being mean to a girl I thought was cute. Maybe it's the same for you two."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Hideaki growled. "Who said anything about me?"

Keita only smiled and shook his head. "Well, you did say you didn't hate that he had them, and you're this worried about it…"

"Alright, that's enough, Keita." he snapped, turning away as he just barely kept the flush down. "I can see you're not the one to talk to about this."

Keita stood. "Sorry, then, Nakajima-san," he offered. "Thanks for giving me a chance. I won't tell anyone—but I really don't think I was the wrong person."

Hideaki sneered as he closed the door behind the younger individual. That cheeky brat. Jut because Hideaki made allowances for him and actually _had_ wanted him to stay at Bell Liberty, that… didn't make him… right…

Did it?

* * *

Most people would never dare equate the tall, slender vice-president with a pitbull, but deep down he shared many characteristics. Even Hideaki would admit to his deep-seeded stubbornness and his inability to let go of something once he locked onto it in. His predicament with Omi was no different. Every spare moment it twisted around in his head like some serpentine, three-dimensional puzzle. Keita's words kept returning to him over and over again like the crashing of the waves that the ocean-shore.

Could Omi really like him as Keita claimed? Even more frightening, could Hideaki like Omi? He considered the ramifications, the clues, the possibilities, and even the evidence against each. What sense did it make?

But then again, when he considered everything together, the puzzle did fit together in a surprising tight image. Omi was the only individual that Hideaki had never been able to ignore, and he _hadn't_ gone and destroyed the other youth's computer or even demanded that he remove the photographs.

Furthermore, given the level of complexity he'd observed in the security to the second tier of the treasury computer, Hideaki had to wonder why he'd always been able to dismantle or apprehend every virus the treasury gifted him. He was talented, yes, but could he really claim that he could match Omi's technical genius if push really came to shove? Could someone who excelled so far above the norm in security really be _that_ relatively inept at viruses?

A hundred conversations played back in his mind. He filtered through them, searching for evidence in either direction, on his side or on Omi's. How could he say that he liked him? Did he respect his abilities? Certainly. Did he think that Shichijo performed well as a senior of Bell Liberty Acadamy? One of the best. Did he think his was a barking idiot? Well, yes… But wasn't that because he hung on the Queen's words as if they were life itself? Didn't he look at that fool Kaoru like a star-struck school-girl and answer all of Kaoru's demands—both reasonable and unreasonable—in that sickly-sweet voice of understanding and deference? He _was_ like a damned dog around the wretched pink-haired…

Hideaki caught himself, eyes wide and hands clenched around the edges of his desk. He couldn't help as his gaze darted around the room while the realization settled on him. The vice-president stood and ran his fingers through his blue-black hair with a sigh and a smirk. _I sound like some jealous bird_.

Maybe it was time for a walk.

Hideaki focused on his breathing as he walked beside the roaring ocean. More than most days, the waves beat against the thin strip of shoreline with the passion of a frenzied taiko drummer. He looked out over the waters and sighed. Sometimes he wondered if he could ever go back to the days when things were simple—when he was distant and didn't care about anything. First Tetsuya muscled his pushy, clumsy way in. Then, that brat Keita wormed in somewhere during the confusion of his arrival. Now, it seemed that in one regard or another, Omi would always be there too.

"What the hell…" he sighed again and reached up to pull his glasses off. The sea spray made it hard to see anyway.

"Your face would frighten demons, Nakajima-san. Something the matter?"

"Not that it would be any of your business even if there was," he answered with a biting smile, not even needing to look towards the voice to know who spoke—the last person on earth he wanted to see or talk to. He glanced towards the head of the treasury who stood on a paved path that lead away from the beach into the forest. Why did Kaoru have to show up there anyway? He happened to like _solitary_ walks.

"I suppose you're right," he agreed. "Anyway, I just came from the chairman's office. It looks like he wants to see you and the King when you have a few moments. But you should probably give him a little while because Keita-kun was entering as I left."

Hideaki turned away. "I understand. Thank you for passing on the summons, Saionji-san."

"Of course," Kaoru replied.

Hideaki didn't have to look at him to know that he tossed some of his wavy hair over his shoulder or that he was still staring. With a frustrated sigh, Hideaki turned back to the shorter youth who obviously still wanted something from him.

"Was there something else, Saionji-san?" he inquired with a forced smile as he left the beach that he so wanted to walk along in order to join Kaoru on the pathway beside the tall stone wall that ran the length of it. He stopped, shoving both his hands into their respective pockets, and gazed at the Queen.

"I recently received word that _someone_ from the student council managed to hack the treasury's system some three months ago now."

"That's too bad. I hope your data was safe," Hideaki offered in his least sincere voice.

"Omi is far more talented that some half-rate hacker," Kaoru scoffed with a smile. "Even if the dunce _could_ bumble his way through the system with any sort of efficiency, and _then_ could break through the encryptions, Omi always enters the data and reports in his gibberish code anyway. That's not what bothered me."

"Really?" Hideaki prompted, keeping his face steady and his eyes cold. Of course, he knew what was coming next,

"Yes," Kaoru continued. "I also learned, sometime later, that this detestable worm actually found his way into Omi's personal computer."

"That's too bad," Hideaki sneered. "He should really be more careful."

Kaoru's eyes narrowed, and his mouth opened to no doubt lash out at Hideaki, since his patience was, somehow, even thinner than the vice-president's, but he stopped when a soft voice broke into the conversation.

"Kaoru… I told you there was no need for you to bother with the issue."

Both youths turned their attention to the new-comer. None other than Omi stood at the closest bend in the path. His hands were lost in the pockets of his ruby blazer, and his face held only that placid smile.

Hideaki's swallowed an angry growl at the sound of Omi's voice as he spoke to Kaoru and said his name.

"Omi, I told you I would handle this," Kaoru growled.

"But I already have," Omi answered as he stepped forward. "You don't have to worry. I upgraded the security and made the doorways much harder to detect. We haven't had a problem since, and we won't."

Kaoru frowned and crossed his arms. "You're too lenient, Omi," he announced.

"I'm sorry, Kaoru."

_Still_, he kept smiling at the prissy bi… Hideaki was ready to grab one of them and throttle until he stopped seeing read—or saw a blue face. Which ever came first. If he'd had hackles, he would have raised them as Omi approached and rested his hand on Kaoru's shoulder.

"Really, everything's taken care of. You shouldn't trouble yourself."

"Alright then, Omi," Kaoru huffed and uncrossed his arms while he moved to stride back up the path. "Do as you wish. I expect you'll be coming by for the stats later."

"Of course, Kaoru."

Hideaki watched him walk away as the scowl on his face intensified. Now that he knew this was jealousy, it made it even harder to deal with it. Didn't he have pride? What was even _almost_ rational about being jealous of a long-time friendship between two people that he, in all honesty, had next to nothing to do with. "Don't you have any pride? That guy treats you like a dog," he pointed out.

"So condemns the individual who takes every opportunity to label me as one," Omi answered with a smile. "Slightly hypocritical, wouldn't you agree?"

"Though I wonder what's worse," Hideaki growled as he crossed his arms over his chest—feeling the need to protect himself somehow. That, or maybe he was trying to find a way to shut himself up without being _too_ obvious about it. "Actually being _treated_ as a slave or only ever _hearing_ that someone thinks you are."

"If the slave has no complaints, who has the right to comment?"

"Heh," Hideaki snorted in contempt. Did he _really_ just say something so absolutely ridiculous? "You're really not going to say anything about what happened at the beginning of term?" Hideaki switched subjects despite his desire to just walk away.

"Why should I?" Omi replied.

"Perhaps the individual you're stalking would like an explanation." Hideaki barely suppressed the grimace at his own idiotic words. This was _not_ the way to go about this situation, but he found himself walking down a path he couldn't avoid. Did he really think that Omi would tell him one way or another with an invitation like _that_?

"Perhaps that _individual_ had no business being on my computer in the first place, and therefore, is entitled to _nothing_," Omi pointed out with a slight smile. "Isn't he lucky I didn't turn him in to the school authorities?"

"Oh please," Hideaki dismissed the veiled threat as he shook his head and looked away with a smirk.

"You don't think I could have proved it was you," Omi guessed, stopping their delicate dance mid-step.

"Frankly, no," the harsh lies spewed out as if a third party controlled his mouth. His eyes flicked back to Omi's serine smile. "I'll admit your security and defense is the best I've ever seen, however, as illustrated by your rather benign viruses, I feel you lack the technical skill to track me. After all, _I_ actually received a platinum letter."

As soon as he finished speaking, Hideaki got the strangest urge to go and slam his head in a door—repeatedly. This was _not_ how he wanted this encounter to go, yet there it was. His mouth, his face, and his body felt like they were on auto-pilot: destroy-Omi-auto-pilot.

For a moment, Omi just looked at him, his face that front of cool indifference he always hid behind. Yet, for the first time, Hideaki could see it for the mask it was. He saw the suffering just beneath and knew _he_ was the cause of it.

"I guess that just about does it then," Omi commented with a forced smile. "Good day, Nakajima."

Hideaki could have let him walk away—just like he had a hundred times before. However, this time was different. He could feel it. That camouflaged-hurt he'd put in Omi's eyes told him that if he let the blue-eyed youth walk away this time, there would never be a 'next time'—never another chance. He knew this as well as he knew his own name.

"Wait," he growled as he reached out and grabbed for Omi's shoulder. Screw that damned auto-pilot. He was in charge of his own life, and he wasn't about to let habit destroy what he'd finally figured out he wanted before he even got close enough to touch it.

"Don't," Omi snapped, shrugging off to the left to shake Hideaki's grip.

The uncharacteristic anger on his face almost made Hideaki draw back, but his fear of only ever seeing that expression spurred him into action. He darted forward, forcing Omi to back up to accommodate his rush.

"What are y…?"

Omi's voice broke off when the red-brick-wall beside the path denied further backwards motion. He glared up at Hideaki with the ferocity of an enraged dog, his blue-purple eyes glittering in his anger. The vice-president's breath caught as a painful square in his throat when he realized that the glittering was more than just rage. In that moment, he could have gone to demand Tetsuya to kill him. Granted the moistures remained locked in those intense eyes, but still Hideaki saw what they could have been if Omi had a shred less pride or self-control.

"I'm sorry," he growled, pressing closer to Omi to keep him from darting in either direction to avoid the exchange. Hideaki desperately wanted to adjust his glasses, but both his hands were busy detaining the grey dog… No. Omi was surely a wolf—a beautiful, silver wolf. "I'm sorry," he whispered again. "I didn't mean anything by it. It just came out."

"Don't touch me," Omi snarled, shoving against Hideaki's chest. However, he succeeded only in increasing the distance between the two by about and inch.

"Stop fighting me," Hideaki hissed, pressing harder against Omi. It would have been so much easier to contain him if Omi was just a few centimeters shorter. "Just stop and listen, Omi."

Omi's eyes flew wide, and anger flushed his face even further. "Don't you dare call me…"

Hideaki had had more than enough. He apologized—twice. Twice! Who in their right mind could expect or ask for such a thing from him _once_ in their lifetime—even less would ever get it. Yet this ridiculous youth who drove him crazy pulled those words out of him two times in under eight seconds!

He wasn't sure if it was to silence Omi or if it was surrender to his own tangled desires, but Hideaki stretched his neck to take possession of that snarling mouth that was sure to spout something scathing if left to its own regulation. He slid his arms around Omi's shoulders and lower back, pulling the other youth tighter against him until the silver-haired individual gasped—an unexpected side-effect, but one that Hideaki was more than prepared to take advantage of. After all, no one could ever say that the vice-president of the student council permitted opportune moments to pass without seizure. His tongue snaked out to dip into Omi's now obligingly open mouth for a short stint of exploration.

Hideaki would have liked the excursion to last a little longer, but Omi shoved his chest forward slightly while drawing his head back and to the side, giving a clear view of that sexy mole below his left eye. His eyes closed tight, and his mouth drew into a thin, distraught light. Hideaki couldn't help but grin as he felt the body in his arms warm and tighten in concert with his own.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't do that," Omi growled at length, "and you're going to let go and step back."

"Why would I do that… _Omi_?"

Omi's face snapped back to face Hideaki, and he opened his mouth to shout—no doubt. However, Hideaki latched onto that moment as yet another fortunate opportunity. He descended again, covering Omi's open mouth with his own and wasted no time to take up his tongue's journey.

He pulled back when he realized that, even though Omi wasn't fighting him, he felt more like an unresponsive doll in his arms. Still, Hideaki didn't release his hold for fear of losing the moment and then Omi forever. "Don't try and tell me that you don't want his," he couldn't help but tease a little, though his heart told him better-chosen words might crack that hard shell more efficiently. "After seeing your upper security systems I started to wonder if you made those viruses just for me… Then, seeing those pictures made me certain it was a game you adjusted for my level.

"At first I wasn't sure if I was flattered or creeped-out—but enough's enough. Tell me how you feel."

"I _won't_ be toyed with!" Omi shouted after a brief moment of silence. He shoved hard, finally succeeding in forcing Hideaki a step backwards—no small feat.

When he moved to dash away, however, Hideaki grabbed his arm and darted his leg out, hooking Omi's left. One quick swoop had Omi pinned on the ground beneath Hideaki.

"Who's toying?" he snarled, lifting an eyebrow as he finally was able to adjust his glasses now that most of the holding task had been transferred to his weight—slight though it was. He knew how to maximize its use.

Omi only glared up at him, his characteristic half-lidded expression lost to an intense gaze of pain and anger. "You don't know anything."

"Then tell me," Hideaki prompted. "And hurry, because we both know the low limit to my patience."

Omi looked away, the muscles in his jaw popping in and out in his obvious anger.

Hideaki sighed, taking a deep breath of that clean scent of Omi, lightly touched with some unobtrusive cologne. He smirked a little, half embarrassed of the state that the treasury's silver wolf had dragged him to. "Alright then, I'll go first," he murmured as he leaned close to Omi's exposed ear. "I want to be with you. Now. Always. Say you will, Omi."

He felt Omi gasp and felt the sudden rush of heat in his own cheek while he watched the purplish eyes fly open and the ivory face flush. Still Omi kept his head turned away and his gaze locked elsewhere. "I don't believe you," he answered, quiet, almost subdued. "Let go, and get off me."

Hideaki grinned in his happiness despite the cold words. It didn't matter what Omi _said_. He'd used 'the tone'. This time, when the vice-president heard it, there was no rush of red anger, because Kaoru was nowhere nearby. Omi spoke to him, Nakajima Hideaki, in that beautiful, soft voice.

"Then believe this," he murmured as he pulled Omi's face forward and lowered his head. This time when their lips met, Hideaki made sure to keep the touch light and gentle despite his hunger and drive for just _more_. He needed Omi to understand—to feel the words his mouth wouldn't speak.

It took a moment, but finally Hideaki felt the tiny responses and the soft sigh that rose from Omi. The vice-president would accept that for now. He wasn't fool enough to think this would be a smooth or quick process, but where would the fun be in something like that?

Hideaki smiled as he pulled back a little to look into the still wolf's eyes. Omi still glared at him, but this time the pain had lifted from those blue-purple orbs. Now, it had progressed to a game—and that was just the way Hideaki liked things. This particular challenge seemed even more promising than their cat-and-mouse computer antics.

"Now that you've had your fun," Omi started, his voice somewhere between a mocking snarl and his gentle 'I-adore-you' timbre, "would the mighty _vice_-president care to remove himself from my person?"

Hideaki smirked and reached up to adjust his glasses once more. He was glad they hadn't slipped off during the kiss—that would have been rather embarrassing. "No. The vice-president would not care to remove himself from your person," he murmured, keeping his voice low and just as mocking. "Not until the treasury's wolf agrees to at least one date… I know a great jazz place."

Omi's eyelids lowered once again to that half-lidded stare he was wont to wear. A slight smirk chased away the irritation on his face, though there remained the hint of that unspoken challenge.

"I don't like jazz."


End file.
